


For a moment

by WhatATime



Series: I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce dies then comes back, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Damian Wayne, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime
Summary: This is a story of self-seeking and fulfillment. You've been warned.





	For a moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end of the road.

_“I need a location on Red Robin.”_   
  


Damian listened to the comm. He wasn’t surprised they lost Tim. He was surprised Tim was with his grandfather though. He rolled his eyes. It was pathetic really. His father dies, so Tim goes A.W.O.L. Ra’s and Tim both believed Bruce Wayne was alive. Damian didn’t believe one way or the other. He just knew he had two dead parents now.

 

He could tell them where Tim was. He didn’t look like he was hurting himself though. Damian would die before Tim had to. He’d never admit it to anyone, but his father’s golden child (and the most likely Batman when Dick gets too old/tired/dead to do it) couldn’t die. Ra’s could do without him. They couldn’t do without Tim, not forever anyway. 

 

_ “Hood and Spoiler are checking Jump. Batwing and Signal, you’re on San Francisco. The rest of you know what to do.” _ Barbara’s voice would never stop ringing. They would keep looking until Tim came back, or they had proof Tim was dead. He wasn’t dead though.

 

Ra’s moved to shake Tim’s hand. The teen declined it, exiting the room. Damian smirked. His cue had arrived. He dropped down behind Tim. the least he could do was make sure the idiot didn’t get himself maimed or killed.

…

“If it isn’t that ‘traitor of a grandson,’” Tim said bitterly from the floor. He sat against the bathtub with watery eyes. Damian averted his eyes from the teen’s dinner, which sat in the toilet. Tim pulled his knees to his chest. “What do you want?”

Damian shrugged. He took a seat on the floor in front of Tim.

“I thought Dick would’ve made you Robin by now.”

_ I’m not Robin material. _

“I know,” Tim whispered. “I know.” He shuddered briefly.

Damian threw him Pepto Bismol.

Tim caught it easily. “Thanks?”

The boy nodded.

“You can’t tell anybody where I am… or that I’m talking to Ra’s.”

_ I won’t. _

Tim sipped straight from the bottle before capping it and setting it on the floor beside him. His eyes closed.

Damian stood, flushing the toilet before grabbing one of Tim’s hands.

 

He managed to get the teen up and into the hotel bed. Tim mumbled, nothing Damian could discern. That was, until Tim started singing. It was the same ode Jason had sang to him once. Damian sighed. He wasn’t good at emotions or feeling. He was so much better at stabbing.

 

Dick would probably be really helpful, or not, actually. What hurt the most was that Bruce Wayne was Damian’s actual father. They shared blood. Yet, Damian hadn’t shed a tear for him. He didn’t think he was holding it in either. He just couldn’t.

 

“M’sorry m’sorry m’sorry,” Tim muttered quietly through choked sobs. Damian really wasn’t equipped for this. His mother taught him how to stab, and his father taught him to kick, yet neither taught him how to feel. He hated them for that. 

…

“Funny seeing you here,” Jason said bitterly before giving Damian a light hug.

Damian bit his lip, holding back a smile.

“Thought you joined the dark side or something.”

Damian sat beside the pile of dirt Jason had built. A hole sat in front of them. He shot the man a questioning look.

“Your parents were both sociopaths, you know.”

He knew.

“I actually half-liked them both.”

Damian nodded.

“See, I admire your ability to know when you’re in too deep.”

_ Why the hole? _

“I dunno.”

_ Second death? _

“Maybe.”

_ You’re an idiot. _

“And you’re a sociopath… like your parents.”

_ Worse things to be. _

Jason chuckled. “Sure, kid. Sure…”

The hole was about six feet deep. Damian didn’t like that. He didn’t know why though.

“I’m surprised Dick hasn’t made you Robin.”

_ Tim said something similar. _

“We’re all thinking it, but, and no offense, you’re not Robin material.”

_ I know. _

“You’re a good kid.”

He really wasn’t.

“Stop contradicting me. You are a good kid.”

Damian shook his head.

“Promise me you’ll use this hole when you guys bury me.”

_ I’d rather not bury you. _

“We gotta be realistic here.”

_ Stop.  _

“What’s wrong?”

Damian nodded at Dick approaching them. The young man looked tired. If he fell over right then, Damian wouldn’t have been surprised. He gave them a tight smile before sitting down. “Hey, Jay, Damian.”

Damian waved.

“Didn’t know you were back.” Dick sighed. “What’s the hole about?”

“My burial.”

Dick winced. “Funny,” he deadpanned.

“No, it’s not.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it is. ‘Cause you’re joking.”

Jason frowned. “Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Heard Crane got out tonight.” Fear toxin, Damian thought.

“He’s back in.”

“Seeing okay?”

“Seein’ fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re real. Damian’s real. The tree’s real. The severed wire by the tree is not. S’that simple,” Dick muttered.

“Maybe you should take tomorrow off.”

Dick shook his head.

“The replacement and I could handle your sector.”

“The fact that you still haven’t let go of that nickname tells me that you can’t.”

“Then the demon can.”

Dick breathed a chuckle. “Can I trust  _ the demon _ not to off anybody?”

Damian knew the question was directed at him.  _ Define off, _ he signed.

“Tell you what, if you can resuscitate him, I’ll leave it alone.”

_ I suppose I can then. _

“Thanks.”

Damian shrugged.

Dick fell over onto Jason. The young man caught him. “Alfie patch you up yet?” He didn’t get an answer. “He’s out.” Jason stood before lifting Dick up bridal style. The young man’s unconscious face was scrunched up as if he were in pain. “Would you call Alf and have him get an IV drip?”

Damian nodded, following Jason back to the manor.

…

Jason woke up to a thump. He groaned as he flipped over onto his front. The vigilante fell back down soon after. That hurt.  _ “Hood? Where are you?” _ He took a deep breath.

“O?”

_ “Yeah. Where are you?” _

“Um…” His head was pounding. “...around.” Jason knew he should’ve worn his helmet tonight, but of course he wanted to feel the wind in his hair. He winced. Who was-- He looked up to see Damian, clad in League attire, or course. “Damian’s here?” It was question because he was only half sure he wasn’t hallucinating. 

 

The boy snapped into the comm.

_ “Acknowledged. Hood has a safehouse three minutes away.” _

Jason stood with Damian’s help. 

 

The boy brought Jason’s arm over his shoulders. Damian took them around unconscious bodies. 

 

Jason wondered if they were dead, but he also didn’t really want to know the answer. He grunted instead.

 

The trip to the safehouse was a blur for Jason. Before he knew it, Damian was laying him on the couch. He felt slightly better. He vaguely remembered vomiting twice on their way there. He put on a small smile as the lamp turned on. 

 

Damian made quick work of his boots and armor. Jason’s eyes had closed on the second boot, and they hadn’t opened since.

 

That was until Damian tapped his cheek. Jason opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the weak light. “Hey,” Jason croaked. Green eyes inspected him. “M’I concussed?”

Damian nodded.

Jason knew it was hard to read Damian even when he could see the kid’s face. The mask made it even harder. Jason gestured for him to pull it down. Damian obeyed.

“Word from O?”

Damian fingers moved. They did. That’s all they did though.

“Kid… you’re…” Jason’s head hurt way too much for him to think of words that didn’t hurt. “...don’t follow.”

Damian stopped, biting his lip.

Jason was about to say something else when a swoosh came through the window.

 

“Wally West at your service.” 

Of course that dingus came to help when Gotham was madder than usual. Where was the rest of the Justice League? Jason shrugged. “Not really.”

“May I?” He was already picking Jason up off the sofa. “Hop on, kid.” 

Damian shook his head, signing something before leaving out the window. 

Jason guessed he would meet them there.

…

Damian didn’t know why Tim Drake was in his bed. He almost minded it. The teen had disturbed his sleep with sniffling. He didn’t know why Dick Grayson was in his bed either. Well, Dick was asleep on part of Damian’s bed. He’d been kneeling by Tim. Once the sniffling stopped, he was out like a light, his arms and head on the bed.

 

The boy opened his eyes. It was nearly dawn. The darkness was welcoming. He greeted his friend with blink. He wished he could sleep more, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen.

 

The young assassin slipped out of the bed, covering Dick with a quilt before leaving his bedroom in search of a certain gun-wielding vigilante. He wasn’t surprised to find Jason on the roof smoking. The young man often woke up early. 

 

“Demon baby,” he said indifferently before taking a drag.

Damian took a seat by him. His fingers grazed an almost empty pack of cigarettes. It’d been full the night before.

“No, I didn’t stay out here all night smoking.”

Damian rolled his eyes.

“I hear your grandpappy has some big things planned. Dick would hate to see you in on them.” Jason gave Damian a small hug.

The boy’s tongue involuntarily clicked.

The vigilante chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”

 

And he was gone.

…

_ I don’t want it. _ Damian took a step back. Because he really didn’t. He didn’t want to fall into a shadow he’d worked years to crawl from under.

 

“You’ve earned it,” Dick said, a Robin behind his Batman. “You did a really good job when Bruce was gone.”  _ You acted like a Robin. _

 

His father stood at what appeared to be ease. He’d only been back a week. He was dead then he came back. That didn’t bother Damian though. He was used to that. Most of his family had died dozens of times. 

 

That wasn’t the issue. 

 

His father sighed. “Damian, Robin--” 

 

_ I don’t want it. _

 

“Why?”

 

Because Robin belonged behind Batman, and Damian wanted to be his own right. Because Damian would rather go back to the League than be Robin. Because he was bad and he'd’ always be bad and one had to be good-- perfect-- to be Robin. Robin couldn’t let a dagger slip or ignore cries for help. Because he couldn’t be Robin. 

 

He was Damian.

 

And that was all he wanted to be for the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on my tumblr: https://whambamthanksbatfam.tumblr.com


End file.
